


some sarcastic last words

by verity



Series: tween wolf [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Violence, Werewolf Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't care," Daphne says. She says that all the time, to Derek, Lydia, her parents, her therapist, her psychiatrist, the counselor at school: it comes out easy now, even with her pulse thudding in her eyes and her palms going cool and damp.</p><p>"You're lying," the beast says, loping toward them, its mouth gaping to show a row of long, needle-like teeth. "I like you, girl."</p>
            </blockquote>





	some sarcastic last words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_rocket_frost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_rocket_frost/gifts).



> **content notes:** the violence here is not graphic, but it is present. also, someone uses ableist language re: mental health issues.
> 
>  **thanks:** to Ashe for speedy, spur of the moment beta reading!

Tastee Twirl is two towns over, but they have Daphne's favorite cheeseburgers, pressed flat and brown against the griddle, and decent soft-serve. Derek prefers his meat ripped off the cow, so he complains, but he always ends up racing against a dripping cone of chocolate to the bottom before the ice cream melts all over his hand. Usually they sit at one of the picnic tables in the back overlooking a cloudy, weed-choked lake.

Derek is cramming a handful of fries in his mouth when he abruptly stills, ketchup smearing against his lips. His shoulders tense; the fries resume their passage a few moments later, but Derek doesn't look happy about it, chewing and swallowing like he has a mouthful of taffy instead of salty potato.

"If you don't want the rest, I'm taking them." Daphne glances down at the remaining fries in the oil-spotted paper basket between them.

"What if the ducks want some?" Derek tilts his head toward the lake. "Be fair."

Daphne reaches over for a fry. "Fuck you," she says. "I called dibs."

—

After that, Derek's antsy, barely finishes his burger. He keeps looking over toward where the sun's inching down toward the treetops on the other side of the lake and glancing back just as quick. Not exactly subtle. That's one of the reasons Daphne likes him; it's not like she has to put any real work into reading Derek, the way he relaxes in her presence and the vacuum of personal questions between them. She would have broken his ribs if he'd actually choked on the fries.

"Come on, let's get out of here," she says, shoving their tray toward Derek after she finishes up for both of them. "You need to get home?"

Derek shrugs.

They're most of the way back into town, pausing for a red light, when Derek says, "I need—I need to go to my house. The old house. You can drop me there. Laura will come and get me."

"Uh huh," Daphne says, eyeing him, the way his fingers are drumming against his knee. "Sure."

The Hale house is deep in the woods that spill into the Preserve, down a winding drive that goes on for at least half a mile. Daphne flicks her high beam on as she turns onto the road: there's no streetlights here out here, and the sky is almost dark, moon peeking through gaps in the trees. She doesn't need Derek to give her directions. Lydia was friends with Derek's little sister, and Daphne has been out here plenty of times, stuck in her mom's car while she did the pick up/drop off thing with Mrs. Hale. Daphne's not sure if Derek remembers Lydia, and she hasn't asked.

The clearing where the house is has turned sinister since Daphne was last here, like a scene out of a horror movie, the charred wreck of the house stark in the glare of her headlights. Beside her, Derek is shaking—afraid, she's never seen him afraid. "I'm staying with you," she says. "I'm—until Laura gets here, okay? Or until you want to go home."

" _No,_ " Derek says, turning towards her. "No, you can't, you have to get out of here, it's not safe, you have to—" He opens the door before Daphne can jam down the power locks. "Go home."

Daphne gets out of the car instead.

—

The gravel crunches under Derek's feet as he paces back and forth in front of her; Daphne's leaning against the front of the Volvo, which seems like the least creepy option. She's left the keys in the ignition, the lights on. Hopefully that won't run down the battery before Derek gets whatever this is out of his system.

"You can't stay here," he says again, looking around them warily. "It's not safe."

Daphne rolls her eyes. "Then it's not safe for you either, asshole. You are acting crazy. This is not the behavior of a mentally stable person. This is 'hello, I am a danger to myself, 5150,' and I should know, okay, so, get in the car, I'll take you home, we'll call Laura, we'll call—whoever you want."

"There's no one you can call," Derek hisses at her. "You don't know anything about it, and it's my fault, it's my—get out, you have to get out."

"You didn't burn your family's house down," she says flatly.

Derek's eyes—flash?—which, what the hell. "I might as well have, I told her—"

"You told her everything," a raspy voice says, somewhere behind Daphne. "Are you going to tell _her_ , too? Unburden your sad little soul? She can't help you, Derek."

Daphne spins around. She can barely see anything in the shadows, can't make out the person who spoke until he steps into a pool of moonlight, and he's not—it's not a person. It's a blackened _thing_ , animal, dark as coal and furred, awkward on all fours like some absurd parody of a beast. Daphne stiffens, straightens, reaches out with one hand to shove Derek behind her.

Derek resists, grips her shoulder to still her. "You can't protect me, you're not—go _home_."

"I don't care," Daphne says. She says that all the time, to Derek, Lydia, her parents, her therapist, her psychiatrist, the counselor at school: it comes out easy now, even with her pulse thudding in her eyes and her palms going cool and damp.

"You're lying," the beast says, loping toward them, its mouth gaping to show a row of long, needle-like teeth. "I like you, girl."

"Leave her alone," Derek roars behind her, and Daphne can feel his fingers changing on her shoulder, the way his nails sharpen and dig in, piercing her t-shirt but not breaking the skin. "I've been looking for you, I've been waiting, I don't know what you want from me— "

"I won't hurt you," the beast says. "That's what you want, isn't it, Derek? It would be too kind."

And then the thing is upon them, and Daphne doesn't have a chance to react before it sinks its teeth into her bare throat.

—

Derek has a hand clamped down over the wound in her neck, and the blood's slowed to a trickle, but Daphne's starting to get woozy. The beast has disappeared off into the woods behind the ruin of the house, and Daphne's leaning on Derek, tilted against his heaving chest. He doesn't know how to drive. They're waiting for Laura.

"Does this mean I'm a werewolf now?" she says, because this silence is getting seriously awkward, and she can't stop listening to the noises of the forest, like they'll give her some warning or answer.

Derek huffs a breath against the top of her head. "I don't—sometimes it doesn't take, I, I don't know anyone who's been bitten aside from Scott. I don't know."

"What happens if it doesn't take?"

"You die, probably," Derek says.

"Well, that's great," Daphne says. She closes her eyes. "Can you wake me up if it looks like I need to say some sarcastic last words? Because I kind of want to pass out now."

Derek's claws press into her side where he's holding her up at the waist. "I'm pretty sure I can't wake you up if you're dying, so stay _awake_."

There's a long moment where all Daphne can hear is Derek's heartbeat and the gravel shifting beneath them, and then Derek stiffens.

"Laura," he says. "And she's brought—"

Daphne turns to see Derek's sister rushing forward, face wrinkly like something out of a Joss Whedon show, but not toward them—toward the beast, which is dragging a kid along by the scruff of his neck, fucking hell. "Scott!" Laura shouts. "I didn't bring him, he followed me, do you think I'd—"

"Laura, Laura," the beast chides after it sets Scott down, its claws at Scott's throat. "You've had two moons with this boy, training him, keeping him away from me. Do you think I haven't noticed? What _wouldn't_ you do?"

"To protect us?" Laura says, halting. "Nothing."

The beast howls, laughs, Daphne can't tell. "You're weak," it says. "You think you can take me, here, now? That they'd raise a finger to help you?"

Laura is silent.

Then there's a sudden, sharp whistle that passes through the air.

**Author's Note:**

> and the next part's up tonight, too! you can read on!
> 
> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
